


Everything That Rides Below the Surface

by breathewords



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, FP tries to be a good dad, Hospital scene, Just angst, Post 3.01, Trigger Warning: Reference to Overdose/Addiction, also some cuddling fluff i guess, because I want to, because of angst, but i wrote this anyway, im not sure if i actually subscribe to the OD theory, jughead is introspective as hell, post-episode, that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 07:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16280411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathewords/pseuds/breathewords
Summary: “Boy, I don’t know what you’re going on about, but you need to calm down and get to Riverdale General right now. Betty’s…”Jughead’s ears start ringing after that. His phone falls from his hand and he doesn’t stop to pick it up. He just runs faster.Post-3.01.





	Everything That Rides Below the Surface

**Author's Note:**

> Post-ep for 3.01 because I'm impatient. I'm leaning more toward the theory that Polly drugged Betty, but this came out of me anyway because it's angstier. Title from "Dream" by Imagine Dragons.

Jughead is crashing through the woods so loudly that he almost doesn’t hear his phone ring. The sounds of branches breaking underfoot and his own breathing fill his ears, but somehow he manages to catch the soft tinkling of the phone in his pocket.

 _Oh_ , he thinks. He should have called someone. 911. Kevin’s dad. But law enforcement in this town is shit, anyway. He learned that the hard way, and at times, he’s been glad for it.

He allows himself to slow his pace just a fraction as he pulls his phone out, sees his dad’s contact light up the screen, and slides his finger to accept the call.

“Dad,” Jughead says as soon as he raises the phone to his ear. “Dilton. In the forest. He got into some creepy shit and…” He pauses to take a deep breath in, unable to catch his breath. “I think he’s…”

“Boy, I don’t know what you’re going on about, but you need to calm down and get to Riverdale General right now. Betty’s…”

Jughead’s ears start ringing after that. His phone falls from his hand and he doesn’t stop to pick it up. He just runs faster.

* * *

Betty is at the end of her rope when Polly exposes her for forging her prescriptions. She hasn’t slept through the night in months. Her mother and sister are trying to recruit her for a cult (not exactly the kind of familial support she needs). And her best friend was just shipped off to juvie for two years. This presents a problem for Betty for several reasons. She can’t imagine life without seeing Archie everyday, for one. Every time she looks out her window and into his empty bedroom, she feels a pang of sadness she’d rather ignore. So ignore it she does. That’s problem number two. Archie’s trial, while a miserable experience for everyone involved, was a great distraction from another sadness she’d also like to ignore. And now both sadnesses are behind bars while she’s stuck at home with her insane family and nothing to do for the first time in months.

She leaves her room only because she can’t stand the sight of Archie’s empty one, but she’s still restless. She tries baking, which is usually cathartic for her, but quits halfway through the cake batter. She tries writing in her diaries, but just gets angry thinking about how her mother invaded her privacy at the request of a cult leader by reading them. She thinks about going for a run, but gets distracted again by the lack of Archie as she sits on her bed to tie her shoes. It’s the ADHD, she tells herself. It’s why she has the Adderall. Her doctor prescribed it to her for just that reason. Her mother condoned it. And so what if she’s getting it in a less-than-approved way now? She needs it, and she’s sure as hell not seeing some crazy shrink who will just tell her meditation is the way to solve all her problems all to get a prescription filled.

Just as she pops a couple pills in her mouth, she hears a strange noise coming from her yard. Chanting. When she looks out the window again, she sees Alice and Polly dressed in all white standing by a fire. _Great_ , she thinks. _Just what I need. A cult meeting at Casa de Cooper._

She feels her anxiety spike, and as if on cue, her nails dig into her scarred palms. Her breathing picks up and she feels a panic attack coming. Maybe the Adderall was a bad idea. This is _not_ an event she wants to be hyper-focused on, but now that she’s noticed it, it’s like she can’t look away. She manages to tear her attention from the window and rushes out of her room, slamming her door on the way out.

Next thing she knows, she’s frantically digging through her mother’s medicine cabinet for the Xanax she _knows_ Alice keeps stashed there. _Hypocrite_ , Betty thinks. She pops two Xanax to counter the effects of the Adderall and makes her way downstairs to… she doesn’t know what she’ll do. Ream out her mother and sister. Demand they take their freak show elsewhere. Call Veronica. Go to Pop’s. Escape to Jughead’s.

She never does decide.

* * *

“FP,” Alice says through the phone. “Betty, she’s… she’s having a seizure, I think. I don’t know what to do. What do I do?”

“Calm down, Ali. You should get her to the hospital. Take your car.”

“Don’t have the car.”

FP doesn’t ask why.

“An ambulance, then.”

“Cut the bullshit! You know just as well as I do you can’t count on any person or institution in this god forsaken town. Please just get over here!”

The line goes dead. She knows he’ll come. Despite what she just said, she knows she can count on him.

“Fuck,” he whispers as he digs through a drawer for the little-used keys to the truck he keeps parked behind the trailer. He’s not even thinking of Alice anymore, or even Betty. He’s thinking of his boy, who he surely has to notify as soon as possible. Jughead would never forgive him otherwise. He wonders if that thought process, being more concerned for Jughead than Betty, makes him a good dad or just a shitty person.

He calls Jug once he’s behind the wheel. He sounds frantic, like he’s running, but FP knows once he mentions Betty’s name, Jughead will drop whatever he’s doing and get to the hospital right away.

* * *

Jughead is not athletic. Jughead has never been athletic. But he runs the two miles to Riverdale General without stopping and frantically asks for Betty Cooper before even looking around. His father and Alice are at his side before the shocked-looking nurse has the chance to reply. They try to usher him into a seat in the waiting room, but he refuses to be touched.

“Where is she?” he demands. “What happened to her.”

Tears cut tracks down Alice’s cheeks. Jughead’s heart drops to his stomach.

“She’s with the doctors,” his father says. “She had a seizure. We don’t know why.”

Jughead collapses into a chair, ripping the beanie off his head and running a hand through his hair.

He doesn’t think about what shitty luck they have. He doesn’t think about the fact that just a few short months ago, their positions were reversed. He doesn’t think about Dilton’s lifeless body in the woods, although that image is still haunting the back of his mind. He doesn’t think about Archie in handcuffs and facing senior year without him. He’s a loner, anyway. Or so he thought. Because if he truly was meant to be a lone wolf, why is he tethered to a chair waiting for Betty like his life depends on it?

No one else shows up to the hospital. This isn’t one of those things everyone knows about, like when Fred Andrews was shot, or riot night. He considers calling Veronica, but figures there’s no use. She’s miserable enough without having to play this waiting game. And if she was really trying to reach Betty and couldn’t get through, she’d know to try Jughead as a backup. He figures she needs some time to herself tonight.

But maybe Betty didn’t. That all too familiar feeling starts creeping back up his throat like bile. The feeling of inadequacy. That he failed the ones he loves. That that’s why they keep leaving him. The narrative he’s trying so hard to overcome only grows louder in his mind, telling him he’s not good enough for Betty, he’ll never be good enough for Betty, that he’s dragged her into a gang, that he’s the reason she digs her palms into her nails, he’s the reason her dad turned out to be a serial killer, the reason her sister roped her mom into joining a cult, the reason she’s hospitalized now.

The voices in his head are so loud he doesn’t even hear the doctor step into the otherwise empty waiting room. His father’s hand on his shoulder brings him back to the real world. The doctor is already addressing Alice with kind eyes by the time Jughead gets his ears to work again, but he still feels like he’s underwater.

He catches the doctor mention Adderall and Xanax. The dangerous combination of the two drugs. A stomach pump. She doesn’t use the word addiction or even overdose, but it’s enough to send Jughead reeling. More than he already is.

He tries to tamp down the feelings. He really does. He’s been so good about it this summer, being strong and solid and steady for Betty and for the Serpents and for himself. Not running. But all at once the urge becomes too strong. He wishes he knew how to cope with this. He wishes he could stay for Betty. But if Jughead has a trigger, this is it. And Betty knows it. One sidelong glance at his father gives him away. The pure panic on Jughead’s face shows FP once and for all the toll his addiction took on his son. Jughead catches the apologetic look in FP’s eyes, but the unspoken apology is not nearly enough to make Jughead stay.

So he runs.

He runs because he’s been resisting the urge for three months. The urge to keep trying to break up with Betty for her own sake. The urge to do it for his own good, too. And that’s what he’s doing right now. He’s saving himself. He knows himself well enough to know he absolutely, unequivocally cannot stick around to see Betty abuse prescription drugs. He knows it, and she should have, too.

He should be able to, though. This is about her, not him. He’s sure she didn’t do this to hurt him. She probably kept it to herself for so long for his sake. He’s being selfish. The thought draws him up short and he stops running, although he can’t quite figure out how far he’d gone. He doesn’t know where he is. For a second, he’s scared of being alone in Riverdale at night. He’s the Serpent King. He shouldn’t be scared. But then again, that also means he has a huge target on his back. It’s stupid of him to be wandering around alone at night without Sweet Pea and his brass knuckles or Cheryl and her bow and arrow. He has enemies now. Namely, his own body.

He’s panting heavier than he was earlier in the evening. He must have run far and he can’t catch his breath. He feels himself get dizzy and tries to find a tree to steady himself on, but before he can, he’s on his hands and knees dry heaving. He retches until his throat is raw, then takes a minute to compose himself, twigs and underbrush surely tearing cuts into his palms. When he can breathe again, he stands up and walks back in the direction he came. It’s easy enough to follow his path; he cut through a significant amount of branches and bramble on his way through the forest.

When he finally trudges back up to the hospital, his father is pacing outside.

“Jughead, thank god,” FP says. “I’ve been calling. Where the hell is your phone?”

“Lost it,” Jughead mumbles.

“Betty’s gonna be okay.”

“She’s awake?”

Jughead’s pushing past FP before the older man has a chance to respond, but FP stops Jughead with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Alice just went in. Give them a minute.”

Jughead takes a second to consider this, then nods.

“We need to talk, boy.”

“Gonna tell me how I need to ‘be there for my girl’ again?”

“No, I was gonna apologize.”

“For what?” Jughead’s eyes find the ground.

“I know I have a drinking problem. I know that’s been… hard for you to grow up with.”

They’re both fumbling through the conversation. Jughead can’t quite meet FP’s eyes. FP can’t seem to apologize.

“It’s okay, Dad.”

“It’s not. And because of it, you’ve got this idea in your head that everyone in the world is like me. That they’ll always choose something or someone over you. But that’s not true. Betty wouldn’t do that to you. She’s not like me. She’s scared shitless of what happened to her. I never was. And she was asking for you. So I think you should go in there now and be with her, and I’ll see you at home. Alright, boy?”

“Alright, Dad. Thanks.”

The hospital is quiet. More quiet than he’s ever seen it. When he was there for Fred, the waiting room was consistently packed with Archie’s support system. When he was the one on death’s door, well, he doesn’t remember much, but he knows Betty and Archie never left his side, and he remembers the hustle and bustle of people shuffling in and out at all hours of the night for the few days after the riot. It’s eerie as he walks through the halls this time, glancing into empty rooms hoping to spot Betty’s blonde ponytail.

Her hair is loose when he finds her, eyes closed and one hand gripped between her mother’s two.

“Jughead,” Alice says, standing up.

He still expects her to say something snarky. Something like, “I trust I don’t have to teach you proper bedside manner.”

Instead, she smiles at him and says, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

When Alice shuts the door behind her and he looks back at Betty, she’s staring up at him with glassy eyes rimmed with dark bags that stand out against her pale skin. The low light and white, hospital-issued gown make her seem more washed out than usual. He still thinks she’s radiant.

“You said we’d make it through this, Jug.”

Her voice isn’t soft like he expects it to be, not like when he woke up after being unconscious for days and could barely get a sentence out. It comes out cracked and wavering, but he can hear her clear as day.

“I know, Betts. And we will. I promise you that.”

He takes her hands in his and presses a kiss to her knuckles, but she just shakes her head.

“I don’t know if I will.”

Her voice breaks completely on the last word and she starts crying.

“Betty, it’s okay,” he says, feeling like maybe he doesn’t know how to comfort her as well as he thought.

“I was forging prescriptions for Adderall,” she admits through tears.

“Why?”

“Because I needed to stay _focused_ this summer. I needed that internship. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I could only work. And every time I got distracted from work, I just started thinking about all the fucked up things that happened last year. So I started taking it more. And then I started stealing my mom’s Xanax. I didn’t… I didn’t think anything bad could happen. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

She starts crying harder, but in that choked way that lets him know she’s trying her best to hold it in.

“I know,” he says. He climbs into the hospital bed with her like she did with him. “I believe you.” Pulls her into his lap. “We’ll be okay.” Hugs her tight to his chest. “ _You’ll_ be okay.”

Her head resting on his shoulder, so he feels her shake it as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“I told you, I’m not okay.”

“I know. That’s okay.”

He rubs her back as she regains some of her composure. Logically, he knows that he should let her sleep. He knows he should get out of her bed and let her get comfortable before their parents get back. But half of him is afraid of letting her go. He’s not afraid of what she’ll do. He really, truly believes she made a mistake she regrets, and that she’s strong enough to overcome it. He’s just not sure he can say the same about himself. He got halfway across town before he forced himself to turn around and go back from her. She didn’t leave him. He ran before she could.

As he feels her breathing even out and her legs tangle with his against the crisp sheets of the hospital bed, he vows never to leave her again.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to Tori, Cyd, and Cass for writing this while I was supposed to be betaing for you. Don't stop loving me <3
> 
> Also general apology for this being un-betad and the first thing I've written in a couple months.


End file.
